Page 23 of Past Present Future

“This is different. Just stay away from the beer pong table and you’ll be injury free.”

When Skyler asked if I’d been to any parties yet, I glanced up from a chapter on cognition in my psych textbook and simply blinked at him. “We have to change that,” he said, clapping a determined hand on the back of my chair. “Tonight.”

Admittedly, part of me worries he’ll think I’m trying to cling to him when he knows other, more interesting people with better hand-eye coordination who have absolutely attended parties so far this year. He hasn’t brought any of his casual hookups back to our dorm—at least, not that I’m aware of—but given his preference for them, it’s clear he already has plenty of friends, both with and without benefits. I don’t want him to think he has to be mine just by nature of proximity.

Then I remember that I vowed to get out and explore more, and the only reason it hasn’t happened so far this week is because I’ve been studying for a test in linguistics.

It’s okay to let yourself have fun.

And I’m going to try.

“You never told me how things went with your girlfriend,” Skyler says as we climb the steps out onto the street. There’s already a bite to the air, our mild September swept away by a chilly October.

“It was good.” I jam my hands in my pockets, hoping this sounds casual. “Hard to see her leave, of course, but it was good having her here. Really good. Hopefully you can meet her next time.”

This earns me a raised eyebrow. “You sure? Because you just said the word ‘good’ three times in a row, linguistics major.”

Of course it was more than good—Rowan was there.

I’ve thought about it all week, and I can’t shake what happened that first night, mostly because I’m not entirely sure what happened. It’s clear my… ah, performance was lackluster, and I wanted so badly for her to enjoy it as much as I was—because oh, I was. I wasn’t lying when I told her I’d been imagining it all summer, and the reality of her was so far beyond anything my primitive mind could have conjured. An out-of-body experience as she filled every single one of my senses.

Even though she insisted she had a great time, it’s my fault it wasn’t better.

Fortunately, I’m able to steer the conversation in a new direction by asking Skyler how the process of designing his own major is going, which he happily gabs about until we stop on Avenue B in front of a skinny brick building with an Ethiopian restaurant on the first floor. At least we can agree that the apartment is solidly in the East Village, and I don’t doubt the monthly rent would terrify me.

He rings the doorbell, whistling a tune I don’t recognize, and then we’re buzzed up to the third floor.

The place is tiny, people crammed shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip, dancing and talking and drinking and laughing. If this is what New York real estate is like, then I’ll gladly stay in my dorm until graduation. Bottles and snacks are spread on the kitchen counter, pop music on full blast, the room thick with the earthy scent of weed. It’s all so heady that for a moment I get a contact high, my brain going pleasantly fuzzy and limbs loosening up. The closest thing I had to a party in high school was when I’d meet up with Adrian, Sean, and Cyrus at one of their houses and we’d game or watch movies, and they’d needle me about Rowan while I refused to admit my feelings for her. If we wanted to get really wild, we might even go bowling.

My dad was a heavy drinker, and as a result, I’ve never had much interest in alcohol. He seemed to self-medicate with it, and while sometimes it dulled his anger, other times it made him spit more vitriol. But when Skyler opens two beers with a bottle opener on his key chain, I graciously accept one. One will be okay, I tell myself, because I am not my father and I’ll respect my limits. I don’t hate the taste, cool and refreshing with an acidic tang. Plus, it gives me something to do with my hands.

Fortunately, Skyler’s so tall that he’s impossible to lose in the crowd. It isn’t that I’m uncomfortable in large groups of people. I was copresident of student council senior year and have plenty of experience with public speaking. But Rowan was almost always next to me, baiting me, and long before we were together, that made it easier.

Skyler drapes his arm around a girl with medium-brown skin and dark curly hair parted down the middle. She’s in denim cutoffs and a V-neck tank top, a vape pen dangling from one hand. “This is my friend Adhira. We went to high school together.”

“A year apart,” Adhira clarifies. She exhales a plume of blueberry smoke. A sophomore. That makes sense—most of the people at this party look a bit older. “Thanks for coming to our little shindig.”

“This is your place?”

She nods, then turns sheepish. “Our parents help out with the rent,” she stage-whispers. “And we are endlessly indebted to them.” Adhira is objectively stunning, and I don’t miss the way Skyler can’t take his eyes off her. I watch his face, wondering if there’s something going on between the two of them. “My roommate and I—she’s over there. Zoe!” she yells, and a petite blond girl hurries over. “Zoe, Skyler, and Skyler’s roommate, Neil. Skyler and Neil, Zoe, best friend, queen of my life, killer of plants.” To emphasize this, Adhira gestures toward a drooping fern in the corner of the kitchen.

“It’s not my fault we barely get any natural light,” Zoe says. Her gaze lingers on me for a moment. “How’d you get that bruise?” she asks. “Looks painful.”

“By being absolute shit at Ultimate Frisbee,” I say, just as Skyler says, “A tourist asked him how to get to Times Square.”

Then Zoe turns to Adhira, nods toward Skyler. “This is the poor boy whose innocence you stole?”

Adhira grins and takes another pull from her vape. “There was nothing innocent about it.”

“Didn’t realize we were taking a stroll down memory lane,” Skyler says, leaning closer to Adhira. Fluttering his lashes.

“A stroll, or a twisty path on a cliff’s edge that gives you motion sickness?”

“They say you never forget your first.” He takes her hand, brings it to his mouth, dropping a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “I haven’t forgotten, my love.”

If anyone else said this, it would sound painfully cheesy, but somehow it makes Adhira blush.

The puzzle pieces connect. “You two dated in high school?” I ask.

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